His Lips Swore Vengeance
by LilyMarielle
Summary: His lips swore vengeance, but his heart did not. Her name echoed in his head like a long forgotten song. The first time, he had her with all the indecency of a pirate.
1. Prologue

**Hello, everyone! I am now officially aboard the Captain Swan ship. I have no regrets at all. I don't think anyone should have to justify their ships to anyone else. If you like them, you like them! It doesn't matter if it's canon or not (though I am hoping it will be), just look at Dramione!**

**Anyone, enough rambling. **

**Here's a little of what's to come. It's still very much under development BUT there will be another chapter up in a few hours. **

**Warning: This is a darker story than what I've read around as far as Captain Swan goes. Don't worry, though. There are only happy endings for me.**

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**Prologue**

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His lips swore vengeance.

His heart did not.

Killian was close enough to her now. It was almost palpable: her fear, her determination…her conviction. He may have felt the same things, but called them differently. There was a twisted variation of her own fate written in his destiny.

_Almost there…_

Yes, nearly there. His mouth curved slightly, eager anticipation marring his handsome face. He was predator and she was prey. He stopped, leaning against the tree closest to him. He had climbed down that beanstalk without much thought for the exertion it would've produced on his body. He was driven by retribution.

The wind had been harsh on his skin, now cold and biting. The rain had been insidious and now his hair stuck to his forehead as drops of water entwined with sweat fell down his neck.

His eyes closed as he relented to the need to air. There she was again.

_Emma_.

Her name echoed in his head like a long forgotten song. But he did not see magical lands or beautiful shores of gold, no. He saw her as she was: fierce, determined…afraid.

A sudden need clawed at his heart and at its height he transformed her. No longer was she running away, no longer was she a beautiful swan of golden hair and stormy eyes. She was wretched with anguish, pressed against a wall with his hook at her neck.

His eyes opened and there was a painful exhale. She had given him her hand, placing it delicately upon his. He almost felt her warmth on his wrist again. It had been pleasantly surprising and altogether confusing, enticing images of writhing bodies, entwined limbs and her wide eyes on him.

He moved away from the tree, a purposeful sway to his stride. She'd regret abandoning him on that beanstalk.

His lips may have sworn vengeance.

But his heart did not.

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**This is only a sort of poetic prologue. I'm off to work on the next chapter.**

**Please, review. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you could. I love and reply to all of my readers as well as take your comments into the story.**

**For anyone who likes Loki in Thor or The Avengers: please, check my story Exhilarating, found on my profile. It's over 733 reviews, thanks to my many wonderful readers whom I ADORE.**

**Thank you!**


	2. Retribution

**Well, I am back with the first chapter. I truly hope you enjoy it. I have been honored by many subscriptions to the story alert. Thank you! If you could, please leave a review. I crave them and they encourage further writing. **

**I am so happy I got aboard this ship!**

**WARNING: This chapter contains dark themes. There's suggestion of rape/assault. If you're confused by the end of the chapter, please read the next one for further explanation.**

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**Chapter 1 - Retribution**

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The first time he had her, he did so with all the indecency of a pirate.

Ravenous, vindictive he had felt after she abandoned him and when he dragged her back to his ship he had no mind for his conscience.

Implacable and selfish, he took her hard.

He tied her up, unwilling to be the receiver of her desperate fists as she kicked and flayed at him. She was desperate, first pleading at him to understand why she had done it and then delivering a scratch to his cheek as she tried to escape. He vaguely registered having heard mention of her son and how he needed her. He didn't listen.

The heavy load at his heart was dull and vacant, resurfacing memories of how she had looked when she had come to his aid, pulling him out of the debris made fall by the giant. She had glowed like a savior and lied like a hellion. Her eyes held some sort of pity and internal debate and he had failed to assume her hesitance as betrayal. No, he had been made a fool by lack of judgment. She had bested him, not because she was better, but because he had wanted her to be.

She had bested him because in a lost moment between his thirst for revenge and plotting he saw himself reflected in her stormy eyes when she pushed him off, after almost falling into a trap back in the giant's cave. She judged him harshly. It reminded him of Milah. She had the same fierceness about her, the same drive and determination and yet, powered by very different rationale.

Emma held purity about her, rather than selfishness. No, he was sure she was no angel, but she held something he couldn't quite place. Something untainted that flared past her experiences. Perhaps it had to do with her destiny, being the product of true love and all. He had had many women, including Milah whose devotion he missed most and they had been so very much alike but Emma…

_So very different._

It intoxicated him. The idea that he could possess it was delectable. He had not lied, he would swear allegiance to whomever got him to Storybrooke first. After all, he had one ideal in his mind, one drive. But in that irrational moment, he lost it. He was sure she'd deliver, but she had abandoned him.

Her desertion unchained something within him. It was dark and feral, restless, as he had not felt before. He yelled after her, a rage of chronic despair laced with the violent need to hurt her.

And hurt her, he did.

She took his momentary reminiscence as he dragged her through his cabin and slapped his face, hard. Somewhere between a punch and a slap, she struck his face with force. He seemed momentarily astonished, stumbling to the floor when her desperate kicks managed to catch his legs.

She struggled to her feet, pain from her side eliciting a sharp gasp as she reached the door.

He was at her back in a second, crushing her harshly against the hard wood of the door as he pinned her there. She let out a groan as her cheek bruised. She pushed at the door, earning another one far more forceful against the door form the captain at her back.

He hissed against her, his right hand quickly enveloping her wrist with a rope and the aid of his mouth. His hook was pressed at her left side, a silent warning slashing down her body.

"You left me tied up on that beanstalk." He whispered stealthily against her ear, inhaling the scent from her hair. "I think it's only fitting that I should do the same."

"I will hurt you, even if it's the last thing I do to get back to my son." She clenched her teeth, trying to grab the hook with her hand.

He chuckled, perhaps a bit amused by her promise as he was now restraining both her hands at her front was a bit confused and astounded at how he had managed with one hand. Killian silently laughed. She underestimated him.

"Oh, I'm counting on it, love."

He dragged her back by the knot he had managed to tie. Her hands were bound at her front and unable to aid in her balance. His hard pull was enough to send her to the ground, a cry of pain surfacing past her lips when the side of her head then her upper arm hit the table where a map lay.

She tried to stand again, but he was fast at her side, grabbing her hair in a fist. He barely spared her a glance but merely continued to drag her to the side of the cabin. She struggled against him, but he yanked her hair back with viciousness.

He struggled as well. She was tough and unrelenting, delivering blows to his side with her fisted hands.

Irrationally, his anger flared with her battle and the need to harm her became too great. The blatant desire to punish her for having bested him, for having left him with his thirst for revenge unquenched, for having denied him her light was such. It was thrilling and dangerous.

His bed laid no more than a short distance away and his blood boiled with the fiery imagination of his mind.

He brought her to him so that she was facing him. His foot found a way behind her own and he pulled, making her fall back on it. She was doubling over fast, attempting to get off, but he was prepared.

He pinned her down, forcing her to give way to his weight. His right hand kept both of hers pinned down on her abdomen with a heavy force. She wasn't sure he'd hurt her. She hadn't thought him capable of it, at least not like this. So she stilled, awaiting his next move, her mind hard at work on attempts to hit him or escape.

He stared for a long time, almost wishing she'd keep struggling. Her chest moved with the harsh, rapid breaths of a captive soul, her eyes scanned wildly about her. He smirked. She was not done fighting; she was merely trying to find ways to do so.

He caught her gaze. Her dark eyes held promises of redemption, but he was not interested in that, no. He was looking after other things her eyes burned with. Violence, threats, fierceness. He wanted to see her regret, feel it as she begged for his mercy. There was a dark shadow of resolution. She would not beg. Never.

His own breathing was hoarse against the cold night air. He seemed formidable, overbearing on top of her with a serene, hidden rage. She could barely see his face, as the moonlight crept through the windows behind him. His eyes were clear, though, alive and fiery beneath the darkness that loomed in him. There was a sliver of pale skin that was exposed from his neck and she could see moisture glistening. He had to have some sort of vulnerability.

Quick as the thought came, he moved and loomed over her, bringing her hands above her. He managed to deliver a blow to the inside of his thigh with her knee and he hissed at the proximity of what her target might've been.

And then she heard it, the delicate and deafening sound of a shackle being locked. Her eyes flew wide open, catching his sly smile and she pulled. She was bound to the bedpost.

"Appropriate, Emma, don't you think?"

A chilling sense of panic enveloped her and she moved with compulsion, kicking, screaming, and delivering blows to his chest as her legs blindly attacked whatever she felt near. Her knee met something hard and he groaned, tumbling over from the bed.

Emma forced her body to turn and it did. Now able to kneel on the bed, she tried, in vain, to pull the shackle loose. It did not give in. She scrambled to the corner, against the wall as farthest away from him as possible.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him stand and the light now illuminated his face. His tongue darted out, feeling the inside of his lip.

_Blood._

He tasted blood. His fingers felt his lip next, and cleaned what had gone out. The harsh red hues of blue seemed subdued in the moonlight, merely a dark shadow on his fingers. He smirked.

"Now, that wasn't very nice, love."

"I swear to God," her voice was shaky and alarmed, almost in a haze of disbelief that this was happening. "I will kill you if you touch me."

His eyes danced with mirth. He said nothing, but his face was all expression. He was looking at her through his lashes, his blue eyes obscured with something sinister.

She seemed so frail, in the paleness of the night. Her hair was lighter than moonlight, her face devoid of color as well. How deceptive, he thought.

He undressed slowly, taking time to enjoy her horror. She fought once more to unchain herself, but it was useless. Her violent movements incensed his veins, igniting a strange sensation. He was cut loose, he was freed and unbound. He savored it for a moment, drunk on something he had not tasted for some time, hundreds of years, even.

His black shirt lay discarded at his now nude feet. He did not mind where he left it. His sole focus was her as she continued her vain efforts. The fearful look in her eyes thrilled him, perhaps as a reminder of who he had been, before losing a hand. He had seen that look many times before. Never on a woman, though. His women came willingly and he had had many.

He was deliberately slow, forged by her trepidation, encouraged by the noises she made. They were not meant to do so, but they did. Because the demand of her possession was unbearable, the desire for her subjugation was such it blinded him.

Killian Jones was not himself. No…he was a man possessed by the rage of years, weaving slowly in a land where it doesn't dissipate, but increases. It had consumed his soul.

His hand stretched lower, undoing the belt of his leather clothing. Emma's frightful eyes followed him, mindful of his assessment of her. She couldn't watch anymore and her efforts doubled.

He took hold of her ankle and dragged it towards him. She swung it viciously towards his face, but he avoided her blow. Quick and lithe, he was on top of her, his knee forcing her legs to stay still. They pressed at her thighs ruthlessly, hurting the bones beneath her skin.

He momentarily stopped, watching her eyes shine.

_Tears…_

Something in his chest was devolving, something harsh and equally soft, insidious.

His skin felt scorching as his hand traveled up her neck. He touched her without remorse, calloused fingers eager to explore. They were at her cheek now, wiping the salty moisture from the corner of her eyes. The rings on his fingers felt cold compared to his skin, and the pendant he wore touched her neck with freezing promises.

She looked pained as she forced her head to the other side, moving away from his touch, but just as he, she was deceitful. Her eyes burned him with a look that might've murdered him if she could. He moved and a moan of anguish passed her lips as his knee released her leg.

He smiled at her avoidance, pushing her hair away form her face with surprising delicacy. His breath hit her with blazing words as his stubble teased the skin of her jaw.

"I yelled after you for hours." He whispered at her hear, tracing it shell with merely a touch of his lips. "Now, you will scream for me."

She felt his hook on the waistband of her jeans. If she moved, he would hurt her as it was pressing dangerously into her skin. The room was still and silent, and she heard the first rip of her clothes.

To find herself wanting him had been abominable. No, she should've been fighting him. His touch had been light to her skin, and she had felt the honesty of his hands as he tenderly took her. He cradled her like a precious thing, like a worshipped relic of ancient times, fabled by legend.

As he moved above her, she saw his eyes, desperate for salvation. And she felt his cry of despair, echoing through her mind like a long forgotten past. He had released her and she had placed her hand on his chest, above his heart. He had stopped, feeling the desperate wail of a dying destiny in his hands.

And she saw, as clear as day, a vision of destined hearts, some fated end to a life that had been ripped from her by a curse and the suffering he had unknowingly gone through.

It told her he was hers and she was his. And she believed it.

The first time he had her, he did so with all the indecency of a pirate.

The second time he took his time…

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**Yes, this was awfully evil of me. I intentionally did not dwell on what happened after he ripped her clothes, because yes, this a dark hook story, but yes, Emma and even he will have a happy ending. But for people who don't know my other stories, I love to evolve with the characters.**

**Characterization is important. And this is just the beginning of it.**

**So, please, please, please...and I know I'm begging, but please leave a review!**

**Thank you!**

**-Lily**


	3. Sincerest Apologies

It's difficult for me to write this note to you all.

I am extremely grateful for the reviews and comments I've been getting for this new story of mine.

It is no surprise, though, that I've also been getting some very concerned comments about what happened in the last chapter, the issue with rape and the sudden change in atmosphere and how it could possibly have a happy ending.

First of all, let me thank you for those comments as well. I am VERY sorry for any offense I've delivered to any of you. It was not my intention. As it is, I am sorry as well for forgetting to put on a warning before the chapter. I humbly as for your kind forgiveness if this has offended you, made you uneasy and wary. Believe me, it was not my intention.

Secondly, with that being said it may come across as though I'm trivializing the subject at hand. I did not mean to make it seem as though it is a subject to take on lightly.

IT IS NOT.

I…I was, or am, a victim of sexual assault. Believe me, I know the horror. I was very, very young and my life changed afterwards in ways imaginable and unimaginable. I often think of how I could've been if it hadn't happened, how my family could've been, how my relationship with my boyfriend might've been like. But it did. I have struggled to come to terms with it: nightmares, paranoid insecurity and lack of self-esteem. It takes a strong soul and courageous heart to get up every morning. I admire each and every person on this earth who is capable of looking in the mirror and see his/her self worth past that. So, please, forgive me. I truly did not mean to cause any pain with this. I should know it firsthand.

Thirdly, I'd like to address the direction of this story. Perhaps I made a mistake ending that chapter how I did. It is not exactly clear where it's headed and what's happening. I apologize once more. I am nervous and ashamed that I may have caused discomfort, so I'd like to explain where this is headed.

I wish I didn't spoil anything, but it would really ease my mind to let you guys know this: Chapter 1 for this story (Retribution), is not something that is actually happening.

This is taking place as Captain Hook is still chained up inside the giant's cave. The 10 hours that he's had are hours filled with horrors and torture that only a vengeful man, with a rage and thirst for revenge that has been brewing for years, is capable of knowing.

This dream has elements of a plotline that will be introduced next chapter. The change in atmosphere is such, rapid and irrational, because of dreams that he once had (many years ago) now corrupted by the somber ravage of his soul. I know this may not be very helpful, but I just wanted to say that what happened did not actually happen. It was all inside his head. Now, many may wonder: what's this monster thinking? How can he dream such things? As this is a fantasy story with elements of a storyline beyond our reality I can explore with that in the hopes that in the future, this will be acceptable to you.

I hope that this clears things up a bit.

Once more, I'd like to apologize, from the bottom of my heart

Thank you for support, comments of any manner, kind or otherwise, advice and encouragement.

Much love,

-Lily


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